


Aren't Always What They Appear

by twilightHDfan



Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Beginnings, M/M, Violence, kid!Pete
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-17
Updated: 2012-11-17
Packaged: 2017-11-18 20:39:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/565050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twilightHDfan/pseuds/twilightHDfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint can’t help but be attracted to his son’s new teacher, Phillip Coulson. But is the man all he appears? After eight months settled in one place, will Clint and Pete have to run again?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aren't Always What They Appear

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies to the Spiderman fans for completely changing Pete's history ... I hope you won't hate it too much. Huge thanks to my beta arna12! and to the mods at marvel-bang over on LJ for running the show so well.
> 
> Huge thanks to somehowunbroken for the awesome artwork (and for stepping up and pinch hitting for this!). Really really grateful!!!

“So have you seen _him_?”

Turning away from where he’d been watching his son run up to his friends, Clint took in the mom standing and grinning next to him, Sandra, Clint remembered her name was. She was just one in a long line of soccer moms that he had had to get to know and remember who they were. He was pretty sure that her son was Jordan, someone who Pete had been telling Clint all about. Apparently the fact that the other little boy also liked the Hulk meant they were obviously meant to be best friends.

He’d been here for eight months, which was a record for him and Pete. They’d usually have been found by now, by the good guys or the bad guys it didn’t really matter who found them, because in the end he knew that they were after his son and what his son could do.

So the fact that they hadn’t been found yet meant that he had actually started to get to know people, which he wasn’t exactly happy about. He had never been a gossip, not when he was back in the home, or the circus, or those years in between the circus and holding the little boy who would become his son in his arms. It also meant that Pete was able to take part in the little plays and productions the seven year old class was putting on, and that Clint had to come and play nice with the parents after watching his son proudly.

“Who?” Clint asked, unable to stop the small smile that crossed his face when he saw Pete talking animatedly with another little boy. He wasn’t as nervous about Pete being in school and making friends anymore, not since Pete had rolled his eyes at him and informed him that he wasn’t six anymore, and wouldn’t be showing anyone his abilities. Or his ‘superhero’ powers as Pete called them.

Clint still worried, part of him knowing how tempting it would be for a little boy to show his friends his ‘superhero’ powers. Which is why he always kept a bag packed.

Just in case.

“The new teacher,” Sandra continued, leaning closer, dropping her voice to a soft murmur. “Phil Coulson is his name, and there’s just something about him. I can’t even explain it. You just have to see him.”

Eyes flicking around the room, Clint looked for an unfamiliar face, eyes snapping back to the man standing in the corner, talking to another mother. The man was of average height, average build, a good looking man from what Clint could see, but not something he would really think twice about. He had a kind face, something about it that made Clint comfortable, so would no doubt make six and seven year olds comfortable as well.

Flicking his eyes up, he was met by a pair of warm, blue eyes, and felt his breath catch. It was like electricity running through him, as the blue eyes held his, his heart racing, as he looked into the eyes.

Tearing his eyes away, he took in a deep breath, swallowing hard as he tried to calm his racing heart, tried to ignore the tingling sensation across his skin. It had been a long time since something had caught him unaware like that.

“Dad?”

Pete gently grabbed his hand, looking up at him with concerned eyes, a small furrow on his brow with the small frown to match it on his face.

“Hey, buddy, you did great out there.”

Pete grinned up at him, the concern and frown disappearing as he started chattering about the play and his friends.

“Excuse me, I don’t mean to interrupt.”

Swallowing hard, Clint kept his eyes on Pete for a few seconds to make sure he was under control, before looking at the man next to him. Up close, Clint could see what Sandra was talking about, there was something about this Phil Coulson that drew you in. From a distance he looked attractive, but up close, with his warm blue eyes on you, lips quirking up a bit, he was gorgeous.

“You must be Peter’s father,” Coulson continued, that smile playing on his face. “Phil Coulson.”

Clint stared at the hand that Coulson held out, before taking it slowly.

“Clint Barker,” Clint replied, shaking the hand, feeling the strength in the fingers that gripped him.

“It’s a pleasure, Mister Barker,” Coulson answered, holding his hand for a moment longer than necessary, his fingers brushing against Clint’s palm when they let go, the feel almost making him shiver. “Peter has done exceptionally well since I’ve started, he’s an extraordinary child.”

“Thank you,” Clint replied, pushing the emotions he was feeling down, letting a small smile cross his face.

Pete was an extraordinary child, one who had been through more than people who were three times his age had. Clint wasn’t sure how much Pete remembered of his life before Clint had swooped in and taken him away from it. Wasn’t sure whether he had any idea of what happened to his parents. He just hoped the kid was too young to remember anything but the vague hint of his parents.

“Dad,” Pete interrupted, the boy clearly embarrassed if the stain of pink spreading across his face was any indication. Clint smiled down at him, unable to keep his face blank when it came to his son, and ran a hand through his hair. When he looked back up, he saw a curious look on Coulson’s face for a brief second, before the warm smile was back.

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Mister Barker,” Coulson said, before he nodded and moved away. Clint couldn’t help but watch him go, ignoring the flutter in his stomach, and instead reminding himself that he didn’t have the luxury of following fluttery feelings where they might lead him.

“Can we go now, Dad?” Pete asked, looking at Coulson’s back for a moment, before looking back up at Clint. “You promised we could have pizza for dinner after the play.”

“Did I?” Clint asked, putting a confused look on his face, as he followed Pete over to where his bag and coat were.

“Yes, you did, remember you said …”

Clint smiled as Pete went on about the conversation they had that morning, Clint unable to stop himself from looking back. Not surprised when blue eyes met his again, before he disappeared around the corner.

**

“Dad. Dad. Dad.”

Clint tried to wipe the smile from his face as his son came barrelling down the stairs from school, running as fast as his little legs would carry him and right into his legs, Pete wrapping his arms around him to keep his balance.

“Da-ad!”

“What’s up, buddy?” Clint asked, reaching out to run a hand through the messy brown hair, grinning when Pete irritably shook his head.

“The class is going to the museum for our class trip,” Pete replied, bouncing on his toes, excitement clear to see on his face, grin so wide that Clint wondered if his cheeks hurt from it. “Can I go?”

“It may help if you remember to give your father the permission slip, Mister Barker.”

Clint felt the voice caress over him, only just managing to supress the shiver that wanted to follow it. Reminding himself that he had once been a top secret agent, back before he picked his son over his job and so called duty, he looked up into the warm eyes that may have been in his thoughts a few times over the past week.

“Mister Coulson,” he said, holding his hand out, theirs eyes holding as they shook hands, the two of them just staring at each other, until Clint felt Pete move away from him. Looking down, he could see the little crease on Pete’s forehead that suggested the boy was putting something together. Although Clint couldn’t think what it might be.

“Mister Barker,” Coulson replied, mouth twitching up into the barest of smiles, but somehow Clint knew that that was pretty much grinning for the other man. “I’m actually glad I caught you.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, given our trip to the museum, we’ll need parents to chaperone the trip, I was wondering if I could interest you?”

Clint couldn’t help the thought that crossed his mind at Coulson’s words, sure that the teacher hadn’t meant to make the question sound less than innocent. But Clint had to stop himself from thinking along those lines, couldn’t afford to get invested, couldn’t afford to get interested. It hadn’t been a problem previously, the interest he had in other people nowhere near the kind that he had felt when he first met Coulson.

“Yeah, Dad! You have to come!” Pete exclaimed, bouncing up and down on his feet, tugging on Clint’s hand.

Looking down, he could see the excitement in the boy’s eyes, big grin on his face, as he looked up at Clint with hope. He hated to disappoint Pete, always hated back in the beginning when they would have to move, something having caused the red flags to spring up in his mind and make him feel that the people hunting them were getting close. The little boy had never made a fuss, but his face had always showed the crushed feeling he had.

And he’d promised himself he wouldn’t see that look unless he absolutely had to.

“I, uh, what day?” he asked, looking back up at Coulson, chest squeezing when he saw the hopeful look in the teacher’s eyes.

“Two weeks Friday,” Coulson answered, the smooth voice something Clint could listen to for hours. “We need at least three parents in order to be able to go.”

“Can you do it, Dad? Please?”

Clint really had no chance, with the two of them looking at him with hope in their eyes. Or at least he was pretty sure that was what Coulson was looking at him with.

“I guess I need to say yes then.”

Pete let out a whoop, running around them as he jumped around. Clint couldn’t help the grin that crossed his face as he watched his son, turning to share the smile with Coulson, only to see the man already staring at his smile, before he shook his head, looking at Clint with a more guarded look.

“Mister Barker.”

“Mister Coulson,” Clint replied, smile slipping a little as the man turned and walked away.

“This is going to be so much fun, Dad!” Pete exclaimed, having stopped his running around, now standing in front of Clint. “The museum has all this cool stuff. Including a part solely for Captain America. Did you know Mister Coulson is a fan of Captain America? He didn’t tell us, but I saw his Captain America mug, and you said that people only buy those if they’re fans.”

And just like that the smile was back, Clint putting a guiding hand on Pete’s back as they moved towards their car, Pete telling him about the exhibits in the museum.

**

Walking through the halls, Clint wondered why anyone would ever want to come visit this place for something other than school or college. It was all art and statues, which probably meant something to someone somewhere, and probably had some grand history, but it didn’t really interest Clint. The Captain America exhibit had been okay, Pete had loved it, but Clint was pretty sure the costume there wasn’t the _actual_ outfit that Captain America wore.

It wasn’t until he walked into the last display room that he decided that maybe he had unfairly judged the museum. The last room was set up with weapon upon weapon locked behind glass. He slowly went from case to case, eyes raking over the guns, remembering the feel of the smoothness of the grip, the smell of the powder, the shock through his arm.

But it wasn’t the guns that had his fingers inching, it was the gleaming bows at the very back, their arrows and quivers next to them. He still remembered the smoothness of the bow he used to have, the way it felt in his hands, the sensation of loosing an arrow and hitting his mark.

He hadn’t allowed himself to pick up a proper bow since he found Pete. Hadn’t wanted to risk the temptation, knowing that it was a way those who wanted his little boy would try and track him.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?”

The voice almost had him jumping, heart racing a little as his head snapped to the man that was becoming a familiar face, that seemed to be someone he was becoming comfortable with. He had never felt relaxed around people he’d only just met before, but there was something about Coulson that just made him calm. It was probably why the man was such a good teacher.

“They seem good,” Clint replied, holding back the wince that wanted to cross his face at the insult to the beautiful instruments in front of him.

“Have you ever used one before?” Coulson asked, Clint watching him out of the corner of his eye, unable to stop looking at the man’s profile, the way he was looking at the bows as if he felt the same way about them as Clint.

He didn’t want to lie to the man next to him, something in him stopping him from telling the lies he’d told people in the past, but he knew he couldn’t exactly tell the truth either. You could never be sure where the enemy was hiding.

“A long time ago,” he answered.

“You look like you enjoyed it.”

Clint felt himself tense a little, before forcing himself to relax. He was so use to seeing enemies in every shadow that even the most innocent of comments could get his back up, but Coulson was clearly very good at reading people, given that some of his charges didn’t always use words to convey their feelings.

“It was a long time ago,” Clint replied, shrugging, making sure to keep his face blank.

“I tried my hand at archery,” Coulson said, mouth twitching up in the smile Clint was starting to always want to see. “Was quite a good shot.”

“Is that so?” Clint asked, grin crossing his face.

“Maybe I’ll show you some time,” Coulson replied, turning to face him, eyes sparkling, making Clint’s stomach twist in ways it never had before.

“Yeah,” Clint replied, eyes flicking down to Coulson’s mouth, before going back to the teacher’s eyes, breath catching as he saw the flash of want that ran through the man’s eyes. He couldn’t help the way he leaned closer, warmth running through him as he was unable to look away.

Coulson shifted closer to him, the warm look in his eyes.

“Would you like to get a drink with me?”

Clint felt his heart freeze for a moment, his mind whirling as the question played over in his mind. He never thought that Coulson would actually ask him out. Part of him wanted to say yes, didn’t want to let Coulson down just like he never wanted to let Pete down.

No, no, no, the other side of his brain supplied. And it was that part of him that had kept him, and Pete once he joined him, alive and healthy.

“Sure.”

He felt shock run through him as he realised just what it was he had said. Although, seeing the actual smile that crossed Coulson’s face almost made the dysfunction between his mouth and brain worth it.

“How about tomorrow night?” Coulson asked, shifting even closer, Clint unable to stop himself from noticing the warmth that was coming off the teacher.

There was just something about Coulson that made him trust the man, that made him drop the shields that he had built from a young age and let the man close. It was dangerous, and yet, Clint couldn’t help but be drawn to him.

“Dad!”

Clint cleared his throat and looked away, taking a step back as he wondered what it was about the other man that made him act so differently from normal. His blank mask had been something that he had learnt in the orphanage and that he had always been able to maintain. His feelings had been something that he had been able to control, learnt from an early age to help protect himself.

There was just something about Coulson that was different.

“Wow! Look at the guns!”

Clint watched as Pete slowed down from the run he had entered the room at, his eyes wide as he took in the weaponery, before stopping in front of the bow case.

“Look at the bows!” he continued, touching the case almost reverently.

“Was there something you wanted, squirt?” Clint asked, trying to hold back his smile when Pete finally looked up at him.

“Oh, yes,” Pete replied, putting a serious look on his face. “When we go to the fair tomorrow, can I ride on the rollercoaster? Jordan said he did it three times last year, and I haven’t even done it once!"Clint froze, as he remembered that tomorrow was the fair, and that he had promised Pete that he would take him that year if he behaved.

“If you’re tall enough you can ride with me,” Clint said, almost laughing when Pete pumped his fist, before running off.

“I’m sorry, I promised Pete weeks ago I’d take him to the fair,” Clint continued, looking at the man next to him apologetically. A feeling of emptiness swept through him at the thought of missing out on the drink, before being replaced by the warmth of seeing his son’s happiness as he ran around the room.

“I completely understand, Clint,” Coulson replied, Clint feeling the tenseness in his chest ease. “We can rain check.”

“You should come, Mister Coulson!”

Turning, Clint was surprised to see Pete standing next to him, big smile on his face as he looked up at his teacher. Sometimes Clint forgot about his son’s hearing, the boy able to hear things from miles away.

“I’d hate to intrude, Mister Barker.”

“It’ll be fun!” Pete continued, hopeful look on his face, Clint knowing he had never been able to say no to that face and wondering if it worked on more people than just him.

“I’d hate to intrude on your father son time.”

“Dad and I have father son time _all_ the time,” Pete replied, rolling his eyes, Clint unable to stop the small snort that left him at his son’s antics. “Please come!”

“I don’t think he’ll stop until you agree,” Clint added, grinning at the other man.

“Well, in that case,” Coulson answered, looking at the both of them. “I guess I need to say yes then.”

Pete gave out a whoop, before running around the room again, the two adults watching him, until Coulson reminded him that he was on excursion and there was no running in the museum. The small rebuke couldn’t put a dent in Pete’s excitement though, the little boy grinning up at them, before walking quickly out of the room.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Phil said quietly, an almost apologetic look on his face.

“It’ll be fun,” Clint replied, trying to give the man a reassuring smile, but sure he was failing.

“Should I meet you there then?”

“Why don’t we meet at the front gate at around three?” Clint suggested.

**

The next day, Clint may have purposefully made sure that he wore his neat blue shirt, knowing it brought out the colour of his eyes, with a nice pair of jeans. Pete had looked at him curiously, before shrugging, excitedly talking all day about all the games and food he planned to eat once they got to the fair.

He had tried to get out of eating lunch, but Clint had sent him a look, and the boy made sure he had eaten at least half of it.

While the morning had seemed to drag, after lunch time seemed to fly by, and before he knew it, he was loading Pete into his car and driving towards the school grounds. Getting out of the car, Pete ran in front of him, taking in the bright colours and grinning back at Clint every now and again. When they got to the gate, Clint looked at his watch, seeing it was three o’clock. He looked around for a familiar looking brunette, heart sinking a little when he couldn’t see the man who had been occupying his thoughts more than usual.

“Mister Coulson!”

At Pete’s shout, Clint’s head snapped to the side, watching as Coulson, walked towards them, Clint staring at the smile that seemed to be only for him and Pete, annoyed as the fluttery feeling started in his stomach again.

“Mister Barker, Clint,” Coulson said, Clint already loving the sound of his name coming from the man’s mouth.

“Can we go to the bumper cars first, Dad?” Pete asked, not noticing the way the two adults were still staring at each other. Clint wondered how it was someone like Coulson was still single, part of him wondering what it was Coulson saw in him.

“Sure,” Clint replied, finally able to tear his eyes away from the man across from him and look down at where Pete was staring up at him.

“Woo!” Pete exclaimed, before leading them off to the bumper cars.

Clint and Pete went in one of the cars, while Coulson went in another, Clint unable to stop the laugh that left him as he heard Pete’s giggles, the boy loving it when they bumped into the other cars. After the bumper cars, they did the Ferris Wheel, then the tea cups and finally the haunted mansion.

It was in the haunted mansion that Coulson reached a hand out along the back, his hand almost resting on the side of Clint’s neck, his warmth sending tingles down Clint’s body. He couldn’t help the small smile that crossed his face.

After the haunted mansion Pete decided that he wanted to have some fairy floss, and so they all walked around while Pete made his way through the ridiculous amount of fairy floss that was on his stick. It was while they were walking around that Clint noticed the bow and arrow game, his fingers itching to pick up one again, to see if he was as good as he used to be.

“My dad is the best at this game,” Pete exclaimed suddenly as he noticed the game to. He smiled up at Clint, grabbing Clint’s hand and dragging him over to it. Clint could feel his cheeks burn a little as Phil gave him an appraising look.

He’d only done it once a few years ago, to win Pete a toy spider that he had wanted really badly, Clint knowing he could easily hit the bullseye. Pete still kept the toy on his bed.

“Is that right?” Coulson asked, mouth twitching. “Well that’s a challenge I can’t ignore.”

Grinning, Clint raised an eyebrow at the teacher, the two of them stepping up to the game and paying.

“Don’t think I’m going to go easy on you,” Clint joked, picking up the small bow.

“I would expect nothing but your best,” Phil replied, the soft look that crossed his face making Clint blush and look away. Clint didn’t usually do anything that could link him back to his old life, stayed away from gun and archery ranges, anything that could be used to trace him, and through him Pete.

But he didn’t think that the good or bad guys would be monitoring school fairs, and so, looking over at Coulson, he let his first arrow go, knowing even before he heard Pete’s whoop that he had hit his target.

Nodding, Coulson picked up his bow, taking his time to line up the shot, Clint impressed when he hit the bulls eye.

“I’m impressed,” Clint said, not missing the slight blush that crossed the teacher’s cheeks.

“As am I,” Phil replied, that soft smile that made Clint’s heart flop on his face.

“But I hope that’s not all you’ve got.”

Picking up the arrows, one after the other, Clint loosed the two arrows, the both of them hitting the bullseye at the same place, their tips right next to each other, still vibrating. Pete was jumping up and down, Clint looking at him for a second, before his eyes went back to Coulson.

The look on Phil’s face had his heart racing, the desire and lust clear to see on the usually unreadable man’s face.

“Very impressive,” Phil murmured, taking a step towards Clint. Clint couldn’t help the way his eyes flicked down to Phil’s lips, wondering if they were as soft as they looked, as he took a small step closer to the man.

“It’s your turn, Mister Coulson!”

Pete’s voice had the both of them startling a little, Clint dragging his eyes away from the man’s face to look at Pete, who was grinning up at them.

“So it is, Peter,” Phil answered, picking up the bow. His next two shots weren’t bad, another one hitting the bullseye, while one went just a little too far to one side, hitting the ring around the bulls eye.

“Pick your prize!”

Clint and Coulson both let Pete decide which prize he wanted, Clint unable to stop the grin at the massive toy lion Pete had picked and the small, plastic, bow and arrow set. Pete and told them that he had decided to become Robin Hood when he grew up, so he was going to start practising now. Clint had had to hold back the laugh that wanted to leave him when Coulson advised Pete that he may want to look into getting more green clothing.

Pete had taken the advise seriously, turning to Clint and asking him when they could go clothes shopping next. Given that Clint usually had to bribe Pete to go shopping for clothes, Clint couldn’t help but be grateful to Coulson.

**

Clint and Phil, as Coulson had insisted Clint call him, still hadn’t managed to get that drink three weeks later, something always cropping up to stop them. It didn’t mean that Clint didn’t pick Pete up from the classroom now, so that Pete could spend some more time with his friends, and he could spend some time talking to Phil.

During their talks he’d learnt that the teacher loved trashy TV shows, Super Nanny and Wife Swap two of his favourites. Clint hadn’t been able to stop the laugh that had left him when he’d heard, the small smile and sparkle in Phil’s eyes sending warmth through Clint.

He’d also learnt that Phil was very organised and that any and all paperwork he did was done in the most efficient manner that Clint had ever seen. Clint had confessed to Phil that he hated paper work, and that he usually left it to the last moment, which led to Phil giving Clint a kit that would help him. Clint had looked at it warily, before deciding he could at least try to be organised. Needless to say everyone he knew was shocked when he had everything done before time.

But it was in the third week that they finally got to go for a drink, Pete staying over at Jordan’s, whose mother Sandra Clint had gotten to know fairly well over the past few weeks. He was enjoying his drink with Phil but he couldn’t help but check his phone and watch more often than what was probably polite.

When Phil grabbed his wrist gently, Clint only just stopped the instant reaction that his body wanted to do, to rid himself of the threat, and forced himself to relax his tense muscles.

“He’s going to be fine,” Phil said, squeezing his wrist gently.

“It’s the first time he’s staying away from home,” Clint replied, unable to say that it was the first night that he had spent away from Pete since he’d saved him. He couldn’t help the nerves that were running through him, the part of him that wanted to go pick him back up and keep him hidden away from the world too close to the surface.

But he had to let Pete stay over at friend’s houses from time to time. Otherwise there was no reason for why he was hiding Pete. He had wanted the little boy to have a normal childhood, had wanted him not to be a weapon or an experiment, had wanted him to go to school and have friends and worry about things that kid’s worry about.

So if he refused to let the little boy do what his peers were, than his whole purpose would already be a failure before the bad guys, or supposed good guys, found them.

“It’s hard,” Phil answered, thumb rubbing against Clint’s wrist before he took the hand away, Clint wishing that the man had continued holding it. “And completely understandable.”

“I’m being a terrible date, aren’t I?” Clint asked. He hadn’t been on many dates, but he knew enough that most people liked you to at least be in the room with them, not looking at your phone and watch every few seconds.

“I’ve had worse,” Phil replied, his mouth twitching up in his little grin that Clint was starting to love. “And like I said it’s completely understandable. Do you mind if I ask what happened to Pete’s mother?”

Clint felt himself stiffen, like he always did when people started asking questions about Pete, but Phil’s question was understandable and Clint had to start realising not every person he spoke to was a secret agent who wanted to kidnap his son.

“She died,” Clint answered, trying to tell the truth as much as he could. “When he was very young.”

“You must miss her,” Coulson replied. “And Pete.”

“Part of me hopes that he doesn’t remember much about that period of his life,” Clint answered, trying to avoid answering about how he felt, given he hadn’t really known Pete’s mom. “But sometimes I think he does.”

“And what about you?”

“I, uh, we were estranged when it happened,” Clint lied, trying to ignore the part of him that felt guilty about lying to the man sitting next to him. “I mostly feel bad because of what Pete has missed out on.”

“You’re a great dad,” Phil said, looking over at Clint with that warm look in his eyes.

“Thanks,” Clint mumbled, taking a sip of his drink. He hoped that he was a good dad to Pete, hoped that he was giving the boy everything he needed and deserved, but there was always a part of him that was worried he wasn’t. He grew up in an orphanage with no real parental figures. How could someone like him be a good father?

“I mean it, Clint,” Phil said, reaching over and squeezing his wrist again. “Pete seems like a happy, outgoing, brilliant young boy. You should be proud.”

“I am.”

After that, they moved on to less deep topics, talking about Clint’s job and Phil’s hobbies. Clint had been shocked when Phil told him that he had been an army ranger before being a teacher, Clint unable to see the solider in the man sitting in front of him. Phil was too nice, too relaxed, to fit into the picture of a solider that Clint had in his mind.

Phil had just smiled at him with his usual smile when he had said that, telling Clint that there were things that Phil could do that would blow Clint’s mind.

Clint couldn’t help but think of the things that would blow his mind that Phil, he was sure, was more than capable of doing. And he was pretty sure that Phil could see where his line of thought had gone, the other man’s gaze turning more heated, as he asked if Clint wanted to continue their conversation back at his house.

They didn’t talk much on the way back to Phil’s house, Clint surprised that the silence was still comfortable even though there was an underlying tension between them. He waited until Phil had opened the door before making his move, pushing the man up against the door and kissing him.

Phil tensed for a second, Clint wondering if he was about to see the man’s Ranger skills, before he relaxed into the kiss, his hands falling to Clint’s hips and pulling him closer to him. Clint wasn’t surprised that Phil’s lips were as soft as he had thought they were, his own moving softly against them before the kiss deepened.

It had been so long since anyone had been close to him, but Clint had never really missed it before, given that they had had to run so many times, and Pete’s safety was what was most important to him.

Pushing himself more into Phil, he relaxed against the warmth and hardness that was Coulson’s body, part of him impressed at how fit that other man felt, although running after children every day would probably do that to most people. He let his fingers sneak under Coulson’s shirt, stroking the warm skin he found.

“Maybe we should have that drink,” Phil said, as he tore his mouth away, breaths coming in sharp gasps. “And, ah, there’s something, something I need to discuss with you before we … before this goes any further.”

Clint raised an eyebrow in disbelief at the man, blood pumping through his body, before he nodded. At least it would give them a chance to take off their coats and move out of the hall way, give Clint an opportunity to actually see Coulson’s house.

Phil was already taking his coat off, hanging it up and walking down the hall way. Clint watched him as he left, eyes taking in the well fitted jeans, before sliding his coat off and hanging it up on the rack. He was about to follow Phil when something on the rack caught his eye. Looking at the rack, he couldn’t exactly pin point what it was that had caught his eye, nothing seeming out of the ordinary, except for the lone glove that was sticking out of one of the jackets.

Reaching out, his heart started to race, the bad feeling he hadn’t gotten for almost eight months running through him and making his chest tight. It shouldn’t have been strange for there to only be one glove, people lost one all the time, like socks, but there was something about it that made him pull it from the jacket.

Staring at it, he turned it over his eyes catching on the symbol that was emblazoned on the one side. He couldn’t take his eyes away from the symbol, eyes running over it again and again. When he’d first started working in the business, he’d made sure to memorise all the symbols, so that he would know who it was he was up against.

The eagle was SHIELD. Standing for something about Strategic Homeland defence. He’d never really cared about what the agencies stood for, he just knew what they could do.

He had never really come up against SHIELD, had never really heard much about them, but there could only be one reason why SHIELD were here, why they were spending their time on Clint. He couldn’t believe he’d missed the signs, the probing questions that he had thought were just genuine interest, the way Coulson had seemed proud of Pete.

The man was here for Pete, to take Pete away from Clint and use him like all those other agencies that Clint had been keeping Pete from, had been fighting to keep Pete the little boy he was, instead of an experiment or weapon.

But now, because of his feelings, all of that was for naught. Pete was in danger, could possibly be in danger right now, while Phil kept him distracted.

“What’s keeping yo-”

Phil’s question was cut off as his eyes took in Clint, Clint not missing the way they lingered on the glove, before meeting Clint’s gaze. Clint gritted his teeth as he saw a flash of something that could have been panic and fear run through the blue gaze, not allowing himself to be taken in again, to be fooled.

“Please just give me a chance to explain,” Phil said, a look of almost desperation on his face, one hand raised as if he was trying to calm a wild animal, and Clint almost fell for it. Before he reminded himself that the man in front of him was SHIELD, and he knew what SHIELD were after. Just like every other agency that came after him.

Pete.

“It’s not what you think. We’re not after-”

Whatever Phil, no Coulson, whatever Coulson, agent of SHIELD, was about to say was cut off when Clint picked up the lamp on the hallway table and hit him across the head. Coulson had clearly been thinking too hard about the lies he was going to use to try and convince Clint that he hadn’t been paying complete attention to what Clint had been doing.

The man dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes, Clint ignoring the ache in his chest, the pain that wanted to rip through him, as he reminded himself that he had to get to Pete, had to get to him before SHIELD, or someone else, did.

Staring down at Phil’s body, he couldn’t leave without checking that the man was still breathing, relief rushing through him when he felt the warm breath, saw the rise and fall of the man’s chest. Even if he had been betrayed, played for a fool, he couldn’t help but still care about the teacher who had wormed his way into his life.

Now that he knew that Phil was still breathing, he didn’t waste any more time rushing to his car and slamming into reverse once he was inside. His heart was racing, as all the terrible things he’d seen from his life before Pete rushed through his mind.

If SHIELD got to Pete … but he had to believe that they hadn’t. That Phil, no Coulson, the man he had started to get to know was fake, a persona to pull Clint in and keep him distracted whilst the agency learnt all they could about Pete and then swoop in and take him. He had to believe that Coulson hadn’t distracted him long enough for SHIELD to get to Pete.

Pulling into Sandra’s driveway, Clint waited a moment in the car, taking a deep breath to calm himself, before climbing out of the car and walking calmly up the steps to Sandra’s house. Ringing the bell, he went through the exit strategies he had in place, gut twisting as he realised that he hadn’t had to use them for eight months now. This place had become their home, Pete loved it here, Clint had found himself finally feeling comfortable in a place, and now it had all been ruined, all because Clint had missed the warning signs.

Pete would no doubt be even more gutted to move again given how long they had been there, but Coulson had been right when they had first met; Pete was an extraordinary kid, and he somehow knew that it was necessary when they moved.

“Clint? I thought you were picking Pete up tomorrow?”

Clint gave Sandra a small smile once she opened the door, confused look on her face, a hand running through his hair, the only outward sign of his nervousness.

“I completely forgot about an appointment Pete has early tomorrow,” he said, feeling the masks he had always worn so well come to his face. “I know the boys will be upset, but we should be able to reschedule for another day.”

“Oh, okay,” Sandra said, Clint wondering why the woman looked so disappointed. Maybe Jordan hadn’t had many friends over before, Clint had noticed that the boy seemed to be a bit shy and reserved when he saw him class.

“Can I come in?” Clint asked, after Sandra had continued standing in the door way for a moment that seemed longer than necessary. Clint felt an uneasiness run over him even as Sandra moved out of the way, holding the door open for Clint to come in.

“Where are the boys?” Clint asked, looking up the stairs, noticing that the house was dead quiet. He couldn’t help but shake the feeling that there was no one else in the house but the two of them, just him and Sandra.

It was that feeling that had him ducking the club that had been swung at his head, the gust of wind that rushed over his head telling him how close he had been to having a serious head injury. He continued the momentum from the duck and rolled forward, spinning around and striking out to kick the woman in the leg, grim satisfaction running through him when he saw her go down.

He may not have had to use his experience in a long time, but it didn’t mean that he had forgotten it. Just like with the bow, he felt that this was what he had been born to do. He didn’t have much time to dwell on it, Sandra quickly righting herself and throwing herself forward at him.

He only just saw the glint of the knife, using the woman’s momentum to throw her over him, flipping onto his feet, as he turned to face her.

She came at him again, and again he used her momentum to carry her away from him, the two of them switching positions, her with her back to the still open front door, with him with his back to the door leading into what had looked like the kitchen. He dodged her charge again, but unfortunately felt the second person too late, feeling the hit to his head, darkness crowding his vision, his last thought before everything went black was the hope that Pete would use his abilities to escape these people.

**

Groaning, Clint slowly woke up, eyes fuzzy, as the events of the day slowly came back to him. His head was throbbing, the pain worse at the back where he’d been hit, his stomach rebelling, making him want to vomit, his eyes taking longer than normal to focus. When they were able to focus, he found himself tied to a chair, hands handcuffed behind him, feet chained to the chair legs.

“Ah, you’re awake, finally.”

Looking up, Clint took in Sandra where she sat on the bench, her legs folded, as she used a knife to clean her finger nails. She looked so different from the mom he had known, even though she was wearing the same outfit, the only difference that she now had two guns strapped to her.

Holding her eyes, he wondered how he hadn’t seen the craziness that was clear to see in her eyes now; the motherly mask that she had worn since he met her gone now that the cards were on the table for all to see.

“Where’s my son?” Clint asked, gritting his teeth, as he imagined all of the horrible things he would do to the woman if anything bad had happened to Pete.

“Oh, well, he’s not really _your_ son, now is he, Mister Barton?” Sandra replied, smirk crossing her face as she stalked towards him. “You stole him.”

“I saved him,” Clint shot back, slowly moving his hands, trying to find a way to slip the cuffs.

“That’s what you think.”

“Where is he?” Clint asked again, heart racing, chest hurting as he thought of his boy all alone with the kind of people Sandra no doubt worked with, that he had worked with once upon a time.

“Somewhere safe,” Sandra answered, stroking his hair, eyes following her movements. “Somewhere, where you and SHIELD will never find him. Not that you’re going to get an opportunity to mount a rescue mission, but still.”

“Who are you?” Clint asked. Sandra simply stroked his face for a long moment, before answering him.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

The chill Clint felt run down his spine was joined by nausea, as he thought of all the organisations that would love to get their hands on Pete. He still remembered when he had been given the task to take out the Parker’s, not thinking much about it, the mercenary life and following orders something he had done for a long time.

But when he had gotten to the Parker house and found them already dead, a little boy trying to wake his father, he hadn’t been able to keep his masks, his own childhood coming to mind. So he’d grabbed Pete, not really knowing what it was he was doing, just knowing that he had to protect the boy, part of him sure that Pete was who the men who had hired him were after.

It wasn’t until later that he had discovered Pete’s abilities, the little boy not only incredibly intelligent, but also possessing abilities that Clint had never seen before, but that he knew would make him wanted by all the agencies and groups out there.

“You know, our orders were only to bring the boy in,” Sandra said. “But there are other agencies that would love a piece of you. Even after all these years, there are still people who remember what you did to them, or what you stopped them from doing, the things you took from them.”

Clint frowned as her words and tone washed across him. He knew that she was telling the truth, but there was something about the way that she was talking, that made him feel that she had a more personal meaning behind them. He didn’t recognise her at all, and he knew that he would never forget someone he had come up against.

So maybe it was the second person, the one who had hit him across the head and sent him crashing, that had a problem with him.

“You know,” she continued, gripping his chin and turning his face from side to side. “I guess I can see some kind of resemblance.”

“What are you talking about?” Clint asked, a feeling of dread trickling down his spine. He hoped he was wrong, that he had again misjudged the situation, but he had a feeling that he knew exactly who the second person was.

“You know exactly what she’s talking about, little brother.”

The deep voice had Clint snapping his head to the side, Sandra’s nails scratching his cheek, the pain not registering as he took in the tall man who stood in the door way.

“Barney?”

It had been years since he had last seen his brother, remembering getting to the station too late, his brother cutting all ties with him once the bus had left the station, never answering any of Clint’s letters and later emails.

“Clinton.”

“What are you doing here?” Clint asked. He couldn’t remember any times he’d gone up against his brother since Barney had left, couldn’t remember ever stopping him from doing something or taking something from him.

“Killing two birds with one stone,” Barney replied, leaning back against the kitchen counter, arms crossed. “Untie him.”

“What?” Sandra replied, turning to look at Barney with what Clint was sure was disbelief.

“You heard me. Untie him.”

Sandra stared at him for a long moment, before turning back to Clint, hesitant look clear to see on her face, as she walked around behind Clint letting him loose of his restraints. Rubbing his wrists, Clint stood up slowly, wondering just what it was Barney had planned.

“Are you letting me go?” he asked.

Barney snorted, shaking his head as he pushed off the counter, striding over to Clint.

“No, you and I are going to find out just who is the best between the two of us,” Barney replied. "Once and for all."

“I won’t fight you,” Clint replied.

“You will, if you want the chance to save your little boy.”

Clint felt his heart squeeze at the thought of actually having the opportunity of saving Pete from the people Sandra clearly worked for.

“You know what they’ll do to him, Clint,” Barney said, leaning forwards, voice dropping as if he was telling a secret. “First they’ll use him as an experiment, and then, if he’s still alive enough and has those supposed powers he does, they’ll use him as a weapon.”

“You know, I think I won’t kill you,” Barney continued. “I think I’ll let you live, just so I can raise Peter to hunt you down and take you out. What would that be like, Clint? To have the person you love the most turn against you?”

Clint didn’t hear any more, taking the few steps to barrel into Barney and take him to the ground, fist flying before he knew it. But Barney had always been bigger than him, had always had more muscle and height, and it wasn’t long until Barney flipped them over, Clint trying to avoid the fist as it flew at his face.

Twisting, he managed to throw him off, scrambling to the side and trying to find something that he could use to stop his brother. He wasn’t really thinking about who it was he was fighting against, all he could think about was getting past these two and getting to Pete, saving Pet from the life he had worked so hard to keep him from.

His hand wrapped around the leg of the chair he had been sitting on, and he used all his strength to throw it at his brother, knowing it wouldn’t hurt him, but giving him enough time to get to his feet. He ignored the aches and pains that were running through him, taking in the room and trying to find something he could use.

Barney was up much quicker than Clint had hoped, the bigger man diving towards him, Clint able to dodge him, only to fall when something tripped him up. He only had a few seconds to see Sandra’s smirking face, before Barney was on him again.

They traded blow for blow, the two of them rolling on the ground, each one getting the upper hand for a moment, only to lose it a moment later.

“Dad?”

The quiet voice had Clint freezing, head snapping to the door way, heart clenching when he saw Pete standing there in his pyjamas, looking lost as he stared at them.

“What … how the hell did you get out?” Sandra asked, stalking over towards him.

Anger rushed through Clint, adrenaline making the aches and pains disappear, as he watched the woman get closer to his son. With a strength he didn’t know he had, he pushed Barney off him, hitting him hard twice in the face, watching with a grim satisfaction as his brother fell to the floor.

As he stood up, he heard the click of a gun, looking up and feeling his heart twist when he saw Sandra holding it aimed at him, her arm around Pete’s shoulders, holding his body in front of hers.

“Make a move and I shoot,” she said.

Clint let his hands go up, trying to think of how to get over to them and the gun out of the woman’s hands, only to lose his footing as a hand grabbed his ankle, pulling hard, Clint unable to stop himself from falling to the floor again. The fall reminded him of all the aches and pains that were present throughout his body, darkness once again clouding his vision.

“Dad!”

Clint looked up for the last few seconds that he stayed conscious, glad to see Pete struggling against the woman, using his strength to push the woman away.

“Pete,” he breathed, struggling to get the words out. “Run.”

**

“Pete!”

Clint tried to sit up in bed, groaning as pain lanced through him, his ribs and back in particular making a loud protest, as his heart raced. Everything came back to him in a flash, Coulson, Sandra, Barney, Pete. Pete had been taken and that was what his mind kept coming back to.

“He’s fine,” a calm voice replied. “He’s next door coloring.”

“Phil?” he croaked, looking up at the man above him, unable to stop both the warmth that ran through him, and the ache in his chest.

“Please relax, Mister Barton,” Phil replied, pulling the chair closer to the bed and sitting in it, giving Clint a look, which had Clint taking a deep breath, calming himself.

“What are you going to do with us?” Clint asked, not wanting to, but unable to stop himself from looking over at Ph- Coulson.

“Nothing.” 

Clint couldn’t help but notice the suit Coulson was wearing when he straightened the cuffs of it, unable to stop himself from noticing how well it suited him, the lines fitting him perfectly.

“We were never planning to do anything, Mister Barton,” Coulson continued, Clint dragging his eyes up to meet blank blue one’s, part of him hating the formality in the man’s voice. “I know you’ve been running all these years, trying to keep Pete safe, but if you had let me explain back at the house I could’ve told you. We were never after Pete, he’s just a boy, and one day we might approach him, but not until he is old enough to make his own decisions.”

Clint couldn’t help the disbelief that ran through him, raising an eyebrow at the man.

“Really?”

“Really,” Coulson replied. “It was you we wanted to approach.”

“Me?” Clint exclaimed, wincing as he tried to sit up in bed again, once again reminded of where he was and why.

“Your aim is unparalleled, even though you haven’t picked a bow up in what I can only assume is years. You can get into places and tight spaces that should be impossible and we know that you would be able to handle the types of missions we want you for. Given that you managed to stop some of our best agents from completing their missions back before your son came into your life.”

Clint hated the way the tightness he had been feeling in his muscles ease a little at Coulson’s words. The man had lied to him and he couldn’t help but still feel suspicious, part of him not believing that SHIELD would really want someone like him.

There really was nothing special about him, not like Pete, and he couldn’t shake the suspicion that SHIELD really wanted Pete.

“There may be some in SHIELD who would want to use Peter, Mister Barton,” Phil said, Clint feeling like the man could read his mind. “But you have my word that he won’t be approached until he’s old enough to make up his own mind.”

“Your word?”

“We just saved your and Peter’s life,” Coulson answered, small frown on his face. “I would hope that that would at least give us a small part of your trust. At least give us a chance to prove to you that you can trust us.”

“I don’t think I can trust SHIELD,” Clint replied, not missing the small flash of hurt that ran across the other man’s face. “But maybe … maybe we can trust you.”

Clint couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face at the way Phil’s mouth quirked into his smile, glad to see the hurt look gone from his face. They held each other’s gaze for a long moment, before the door was thrown open.

“Dad!”

“Pete,” Clint replied, relief and happiness running through him as the little boy ran into the room and climbed onto the bed, arms wrapping around Clint’s neck.

“I’m sorry I used my powers,” he whispered into Clint’s neck.

“It’s alright,” Clint replied. “There are special circumstances when you should use your powers. And that was one of them.”

Pete nodded against his neck, hair tickling Clint’s nose.

“Is Mister Coulson bad?” he whispered again.

Clint froze, looking up at where the man stood, calm and patient look on his face.

“No,” Clint replied slowly, wondering if he could really trust his gut on the man. “I don’t think so.”

“Are you going to join their agency?” Pete asked again, swivelling his head so that he could stare at Coulson too. Clint gave a small smile, wondering how it was he ever forgot about his little boy’s powers.

“Maybe.”

** 

Coulson left them alone after letting Clint know that he’d be back in the morning, with the paper work that he hoped Clint would fill out. He’d been unable to stop a small smile when the other man had mentioned paper work, remembering how meticulous Coulson was with it, and hadn’t missed the twitch of the other man’s mouth.

“I’m glad Mister Coulson isn’t evil,” Pete said once the man left, looking up at Clint with a grin.

“Me too, kiddo,” Clint replied, eyes running over the little boy checking for injuries, hands touching the bruise on the little boy’s face.

Clint checked over Pete quickly, giving a small snort when the Pete rolled his eyes and informed him that he had saved Clint, not the other way around. Clint had finally stopped checking Pete once he was sure the little boy had no other injuries and the two had quickly fallen asleep, Clint not waking until he felt a slight shift in his environment.

Staying still, he opened his eyes a slit, letting his narrow gaze rove around the room.

“If I was here to hurt you, Barton, you’d already be hurt.”

His gaze fell on a tall man in black clothing, long black cloak, and black eye patch as he stepped out of the shadows.

“Nick Fury,” the man continued, walking further into the room and taking the chair. “Director of SHIELD.”

Clint couldn’t help the way his arm wrapped a little tighter around Pete, his body tensing, recognising the threat of the man who sat next to him.

“I’m not here for Mister Parker, Barton,” Fury said, amusement crossing his face. “I just wanted to meet the man.”

“The man?”

“The man who managed to get my ‘by the book, never breaks a rule’, best agent, to fraternise with a mark,” Fury replied, leaning back in his chair.

Clint couldn’t help the blush that crossed his face, hating the warmth that rushed through him at the other man’s words. Even though Coulson had lied to him, Clint could tell he was a by the book kind of guy, someone who would put the mission first, above his personal feelings.

“He was simply meant to approach you, be friendly and then present our offer,” Fury continued. “Phil isn’t the kind to enter into a relationship easily. In fact, I can’t remember the last person he dated. And I know everything about my agents.”

Clint looked away at the words, trying to ignore the way they made his heart race a little faster, the blush feeling even hotter.

“But that’s not really why I came here,” Fury said. “I simply came to tell you that SHIELD could use a man like you, Mister Barton. Someone who would give up their whole life to protect that of an innocent one.”

With that he stood up, small smile on his face as he turned and walked over to the door.

“Your aim is also something we could use,” he said over his shoulder, before walking out.

Clint stared at the door long after the man left, running things through his mind. It was true that his aim was something that would always stay with him, the fair proved that, what with how badly made the bow and arrows he had used were. And he never felt more comfortable than when he had a bow in his hands, lining up an arrow.

Except maybe when he was tucking Pete into bed.

But Pete was another reason for him to join SHIELD. If he really could trust the agency, and his gut was telling him he could, than they could help to protect Pete, could stop them from having to run every year or two.

So if he joined SHIELD, than he could possibly go back to doing something he loved, and protect the one he’d loved since looking at his small face.

By the time Coulson walked in the door, Clint had made up his mind, hoping that he wasn’t about to make a huge mistake.

“Mister Barton.”

“Agent Coulson.”

Clint couldn’t help but stare at Phil as he walked into the room, wondering if the man had any tells, if there was any way he could figure out if what Fury was saying was true. If Phil still felt that way, or whether he’d buried those feelings down, now that Clint wasn’t just a mark but someone who might be under his command.

“I trust you’ve had time to consider our offer?”

“I want it in writing that you won’t try and involve Pete in anything to do with SHIELD,” Clint started.

“Of course.”

“And I don’t want to have to go through all that basic training crap you probably put people through,” he continued, not missing the twitch at the corner of Phil’s mouth.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“And maybe somewhere nice where Pete can go to school?” Clint finished, running a hand through Pete’s hair.

“I already have a list of places for you to consider.”

Clint couldn’t help the small smile that crossed his face, reaching out to grab the papers in Phil’s hands, only just managing to stop the shiver that wanted to go through him as their fingers tangled briefly. Their eyes met for a long moment, and in that moment, Clint could tell that no matter what he tried to do, Phil still had some kind of romantic feeling for him that he couldn’t hide.

“I leave you to it,” he said, turning around and walking towards the door.

“I’ll see you around, Agent Coulson.”

“Yes you will, Agent Barton.”

**END**

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Aren't Always What They Appear (art)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/576966) by [somehowunbroken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/somehowunbroken/pseuds/somehowunbroken)




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